


Uncertain Allies I thru IV

by thebasement_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1998-07-31
Updated: 1998-07-31
Packaged: 2018-11-20 18:39:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11341092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: Scully goes to Mulder's apartment to pay last respects after *Gethsemane* and finds someone else had the same idea.





	Uncertain Allies I thru IV

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

 

Uncertain Allies I: Last Respects by Ratlover

Date: 10-Sep-97  
I don't own them (duh!). They all belong to TenThirteen Productions. No copyright infringement intended.  
Spoilers for *all* of season four, especially Gethsemane. Character death.  
PG-13 for nongraphic M/M relationship  
Scully goes to Mulder's apartment to pay last respects and finds someone else had the same idea.  
To Cathy Lee, who suggested I write a longer story - here's the beginning of another series.  
And to Nicci, who did a wonderful job corrupting me - this is all your fault. :-)

* * *

Uncertain Allies I: Last Respects  
By Rat Lover ()

* * * * * * *

Scully walked the familiar path to apartment forty seven with leaden steps. <Why do I keep doing this to myself?> she thought. And the same voice in her mind answered. <You know why.> It was a pilgrimage to the man she cared for deeply and an attempt to come to terms with his suicide.

It had been five days since she had identified Mulder's body. She hadn't been back to work since the awful hearing where she had revealed his death. Truth be told, everyone was shocked, from that self-assured cigarette smoking bastard and down to the janitors that cleaned their basement office, that Mulder had committed suicide. Whispers had begun floating around as soon as the news broke. "I always thought he was crazy, but offing himself?" And "Will she take up where he left off, the spooky heir to the spooky throne?" Skinner forced her to take an indefinite leave, for her mental, as well as physical, health. He also promised her that if she wished to resume investigating the X Files when she returned, the department would still be there. Scully almost loved Skinner for that. She would resume, but, unlike Mulder's obsession to expose the existence of extraterrestrial life on earth, she would use what little time she had left to expose the conspiracy that had killed Mulder and was killing her piece by piece.

The moment she stood in front of the door to Mulder's apartment, she knew something was wrong. The door was shut, and to all appearances, looked perfectly normal. But there was a sense of the apartment being inhabited. It was not a psychic sense, but subconscious hints that lead her instincts to warn her that she would not be alone inside. Scully drew her gun and tried the door knob. It was unlocked. She edge the door open, and slipped inside, and her heart skipped a beat. There was a man in the apartment, standing over the very spot where Mulder died, his back to her. She watched as the stranger's shoulders shook with silent sobs, bringing the black leather jacket tossed over him perilously close to sliding off.

She leveled the gun at the stranger's back, almost silently easing back the hammer. The man's crew cut head snapped up, sensing her presence. He did not turn to look at her. "You wouldn't shoot an unarmed man in the back, would you, Agent Scully?" asked a gravely voice as he slid something into his right jacket pocket.

Scully's eyes narrowed and she saw red. "Krycek," she hissed. Here was the man who had a hand in her abduction, her sister's death, and so much of Mulder's pain. A wild longing filled her to pull the trigger. But she was not one to give in to her emotional impulses. "What the hell are you doing here?"

He didn't look at her, but stared out the window that was next to Mulder's beat up couch. "Paying my last respects." Krycek's voice, usually filled with unfeeling disdain, was curiously choked with tightly leashed emotion.

"Respect?" Scully spat, incredulous. "You have no respect for anything. You're here to make sure that the perpetrators of this crime remain undiscovered."

"You're wrong, Agent Scully." Krycek turned to face her. Unsettled by his movement, the jacket slid to the floor. "I'm here to expose them."

Scully managed to stifle her gasp at the sight of Krycek's empty left sleeve. She remembered Mulder at the Congressional hearing, saying, "It's good to be able to put my arms around you. Both of them." She had been puzzled by the remark, and Mulder had never gotten around to fully explaining it. And now it made perfect sense.

She managed to tear her gaze from his missing arm to stare into his face. Krycek looked as if he hadn't slept in days and done laundry in a week, let alone bathed. <Are those really tears?> she thought, observing the wet streaks trailing down his face. But his face itself was the stone mask she was used to seeing on this man. "You wouldn't believe what an advantage this actually is," Krycek was saying matter of factly, shrugging his left shoulder. "Most assassins, despite their claims of emotional coldness, hesitate at the thought of executing a cripple. It gives me the split second needed to run, or kill."

Scully didn't take the conversational gambit. She was idly curious how Krycek lost his arm, but not enough to waver from her original question. "You said that you were here to expose the people who did this." Krycek nodded. "Why?" she bit out.

"There were other ways to neutralize him," Krycek said in a low, shaky voice. "They didn't have to murder him."

Scully stated what she assumed to be fact. "He committed suicide."

And Krycek stated what he assumed to be fact. "He was murdered. Even if he pulled the trigger himself, you know that it was murder."

"And why do you care?" Scully spat. "You betrayed him and tried to kill him."

Krycek's eyes flamed at that accusation. "I *never* attempted to kill him," he hissed. "Yes, I lied to him. Yes, I betrayed him. Yes, I misdirected him. But I never tried to kill him."

Scully kept on the attack. "But you did kill his father and my sister."

Green eyes shifted back and forth before he answered her. "Mulder's father, yes. But your sister no. I was there, but the evidence proved I wasn't the gunman. And from what I heard, Luis got better than he deserved."

"But you were there. Just as you are here now." The gun never wavered from between Krycek's eyes. <Just do it. Pull the trigger,> a voice screamed. She repeated her question with more emphasis. "Why are you here?"

"Because." Krycek's mask slipped a bit before he regained control. But Scully could see the pain in his eyes before he spirited it away to some dark corner of his soul.

It was enough for Scully to realize why Krycek was here. It was enough for Scully to realize why Krycek had not killed Mulder when he had the chance. It was enough for her to realize why Mulder always spoke of Krycek with such vehemence. It was enough for her to realize why Mulder would as soon beat Krycek as look at him. "You had feelings for him, and he once returned them."

"Yes," Krycek hissed, as if the admission hurt him. "You knew that he was bisexual, right?"

Scully nodded. She had guessed that early in their working relationship, when she had found 'the videos that weren't his.' Half of them were straight, the other half gay. Mulder, through paranoia or fear of being hurt in a relationship, had been very cautious and discrete about his attractions to other men, and unless she hadn't found those videos, she wouldn't have had a clue.

Krycek continued. "The old smoking son of a bitch knew it too. He also knew that I am. My original assignment was to get into Mulder's pants, and use it to discredit him. But then Duane Barry came along and the plan... was altered."

"Were the two of you lovers?" Scully asked, perversely intrigued. She also wanted no reminders of her missing time, and did not want anyone, especially this man to know about the nightmares she still had because of her experience. And guiding the conversation away from that subject was something she had grown adept at practicing.

"Yes," Krycek whispered. "After you were taken, Mulder turned to me for comfort I was all too happy to give. But I never gave Cancerman the proof of indiscretion he asked for."

"And why should I believe you, you lying son of a bitch?"

Krycek's forest green eyes stared into her sky blue ones. "Because I loved him as much as you did. Oh yes," he continued. "The Cigarette Smoking Man knows your little secret also."

Scully was surprised, but not overly so. That tar-lunged bastard seemed to be able to get a hold of any information, no matter how closely guarded. She had admitted it to herself soon after she began working with Mulder, but never found the courage to tell him. <Actions must really speak louder than words.> "Did Mulder have any idea?"

Krycek shook his head. "He didn't have a clue. He was a very astute man, but very dense when it came to people he was close to," he said without irony or sarcasm.

They stood in silence for several minutes until Krycek's stomach rumbled loudly. "How long has it been since you had a meal?" Scully asked.

Krycek thought for a second and then shrugged his shoulders. "Don't know, a day at least," he mumbled.

"Then why don't you come with me and something to eat?" <Why am I offering?> Scully thought.

Krycek's eyes brightened a bit at the thought of food, but he still remained wary. "And be met at your door by a dozen law enforcement officers? I don't think so," he asked, wincing internally at how jaded he sound.

"I see what you mean, Krycek." Scully thought for a moment. "There's a Chinese takeout a few blocks away. I can have them deliver." She had no desire to turn Krycek over to the police right now. He had too many answers that she needed, and if he went to jail, she would never get them.

Krycek shook his head, disbelieving. "*You* are offering *me* dinner?"

"I'm offering you a temporary truce," Scully said. "And a meal. Are you going to take me up on it or not?"

Krycek pondered it for several minutes. "Okay. But it's not easy to think in terms of a truce when a gun's being aimed between my eyes."

Scully lowered it, unaware that she had been still point the gun at Krycek. She took a step towards him and then wrinkled her nose. "Why don't you take a shower."

Krycek shrugged a little sheepishly and picked up his jacket. "I guess I do have a bit of an... aroma. When you live with the rats, you get used to the stench of the sewer."

Scully watched him move off to the bathroom. <What the hell am I doing?> she thought. <He's an enemy and completely untrustworthy. Who knows what his game is, coming here.> But still she found herself moving to the phone and ordering 'the usual' she and Mulder had when ever they had a working dinner.

She heard the water start and a loud groan. Scully moved to Mulder's bedroom, chastising herself for not frisking Krycek for weapons. She looked at the discarded clothes, wondering how the man could bear to wear them. The tee shirt and cotton briefs had turned to a dingy gray and had a several more holes than when they were first sewn together. The jeans and canvas basketball shoes with velcro tabs were scuffed and ragged, and the socks in desperate need of darning. She found a set of Mulder's boxers, sweatpants, and an old but clean white tee shirt and left them for Krycek.

But it wasn't kindness that motivated her, nor the smell. This gave Scully a chance to paw through Krycek's things and see if he was without a weapon as he claimed. The only thing she found in his jeans was a beat up leather wallet with less than twenty dollars in it, and two driver's licenses from two different states in two different names, and a social security card with a third name on it , none of them his. <If 'Alex Krycek' is his real name,> she thought.

She turned her attention to his jacket. If she was going to find a gun, it would be here. But strangely enough, there was no weapon of any sort. Krycek, for some crazy reason, had been walking around unarmed. It was a fatalistic indication of how far he had sunk in his survival expectations. The only thing in his jacket was a dog-eared picture of Mulder. When she heard the knock at the front door, Scully hastily replaced the picture. As she opened the door, she could hear the water shut off.

Krycek leaned back against the slick tile, wondering what the hell he was doing. His plan had been simple enough when he heard about Mulder's death - get in, lay some ghosts to rest, and get out. But here he was caught by Scully and going to sit down to a meal with her like they were friends. The next time he had expected to see her, he expected to either be cold on a slab, or in handcuffs.

<Now there's a thought.> Krycek remembered the last time he had been in Mulder's apartment, and in handcuffs. <Great,> he thought. <Now I'm tired, paranoid, hungry, *and* horny.> He sighed and stepped out of the shower, grabbing the gun he kept with him at all times, and stopped short when he saw the clothes on the bed. Mulder's clothes. He lifted the tee shirt to his face reverently. Closing his eyes, he inhaled, breathing in the scent of Mulder. He shivered. Scully had no way of knowing, but she had chosen almost the exact outfit Mulder had been wearing when he had come over, the same night they had made love for the first time.

<No crying, not here, not now,> Krycek told himself sternly as rebellious tears seeped from the corner of his green eyes. For all he knew, Mulder's apartment was still bugged and Cancerman's henchmen were on their way to finish what a car bomb, an olien, and a Russian gulag didn't. <It's stupid for me to stay here any longer,> he thought. <It just increases the chances of Cancerman finding me.> But if he left, he wouldn't be certain where or when his next meal would be. So he would eat and get away as quickly as he could.

He dressed, still a little off-balance, missing the use of his left hand. But it felt wonderful to have showered and be in clean clothes. He slipped the gun he had carried into the bathroom back into his jacket pocket, his fingers brushing against the photograph. <I thought I left this in the other pocket. Scully must have rifled through my clothes.> His estimation of the FBI agent rose another notch. She was willing to call a truce with him, but not fully trust him, a wise decision when dealing with anyone as far as Krycek was concerned.

He waited until he heard the delivery boy leave and then went into the living area. Scully had put the take out containers down on the coffee table and was finding some plates. The small table in the kitchen area was covered with Mulder's paperwork, and it seemed a sacrilege to move it. The only open area to sit and eat at was the couch.

Both Scully and Krycek looked at the couch, and then to each other. Both were thinking that if a piece of furniture could be haunted, this couch would definitely be a candidate. This was where Mulder lived, and eventually died. Here was where he slept, ate, watched his videos, and thought up some of his strange theories. It didn't feel right to sit there and eat. Krycek looked back at Scully. He picked up one of the bags of Chinese food and moved to back to the bedroom. Scully followed, picking up the other bag and carrying it along with the plates.

Somehow, Mulder's presence was less prevalent in his bedroom. It was just as messy at the rest of the apartment, but didn't quite seem as personalized as the couch. Krycek sat down on the edge of the bed next to the wall, cross legged. Scully sat down at the far end, plates and food forming a barrier between them.

But as they ate, some of those barriers tumbled. They found themselves sharing stories about the things Mulder did that was a source of endless amusement or exasperation to them. They talked for hours, each trying to find some sense in Mulder's seemingly senseless death. Krycek meanwhile, was disturbed to find himself growing attracted to Scully. It seemed disrespectful somehow, Mulder being dead for less than a week and he was having feelings towards another person. <I'm just feeling this way because this is where we spent a few nights.> That and the fact that he had been involved with the plot that was supposed to lead to her death and instead lead to the death of her sister. <I'm supposed to be a heartless

Eventually, Scully noticed the late afternoon light streaming in the window. "It's late," she said. Krycek nodded, the stone face mask having dropped back into place. If he had the lost-puppy-look, or the woe-is-me look, Scully would have gone with her instincts that he was lying about the whole situation. But the young man was struggling not to let his emotions show. And suddenly, Krycek wasn't the horrible monster any longer, but an all too human, and handsome, man. <I shouldn't be attracted to him,> she thought. <He's part of the reason I'm dying of cancer.> But she needed to touch and be touched, to reassure herself that she was still alive, if only for the moment. While in an internal war with her emotions and her logic, she reached out and touched his left shoulder.

Krycek jumped from the unexpected intimacy. No one had touched him gently since Tunguska. He looked up into Scully's eyes and saw the pain that was there, wincing a bit when he realized he had caused some of the it. He tried to pull away, but Scully kept her hand on his shoulder. "I should go." But he made no move to leave. Almost against his will, he raised his hand to her face.

Scully didn't flinch when Krycek reached up and stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers. Warning signals flared through her mind. But she almost managed to sublimate it. <Your grief has you doing things you normally wouldn't consider.> She reached up and also stroked his stubbly cheek, going against the grain of his beard.

Krycek rubbed against her hand. "This is wrong," he purred. "I shouldn't even be here." He grabbed her wrist. "What the fuck are we doing, Dana?" he asked, looking down at her. But of its own volition, his hand slid up and down her arm.

<'Fuck' is right,> Scully thought, staring back at him."We should be mortal enemies," she said, trying to inject some reality into the situation. She failed miserably as far as she was concerned. "But tonight, I think we are just two people trying to comfort each other over the loss of a loved one, Alex."

Krycek stood there, shocked as the words came out of her mouth. He leaned forward slowly, giving her time to back out, and brushed his closed lips against hers. He pulled back almost immediately. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have...." He fell silent.

Scully studied the man before her. "You're right. We shouldn't," she said with not a little sadness.

Krycek sighed and tenderly brushed Scully's fiery hair away from her eyes. "Regrets?"

"Yes," Scully said. "But I don't think Mulder would have forgiven me if I did."

"I know he wouldn't have me and I wish that he were around so we could find out. You were the only thing he considered... uncorrupted." Krycek looked up at the ceiling and exhaled loudly. "I guess it's back to the basement for you and the sewers for me."

Scully rolled onto her right side. "I could always use a source, Alex. And a partner."

Krycek raised his eyebrows. "In bed?"

"On the streets. I need all the help I can get if I'm going to finish this before I...." Scully couldn't complete her sentence.

Krycek's eyes widened. "Cancer?" he asked, shrewdly tapping a finger just above the bridge of her nose.

Scully nodded. "Inoperable. It also has metastasized." While she could not speak of Mulder's death without struggling to suppress her emotions, she had no difficulties speaking of her own.

"They did this to you." Scully confirmed Krycek's statement with a nod. "Why?"

Scully stared straight ahead. "To make Mulder believe the lie."

"But which lie?" Krycek murmured in an undertone.

 Scully did not want to start debating alien existence with Krycek. They had more urgent things to discuss. "Now what?" she asked.

Krycek had clicked back over to the street survival mode. "I think it would be best if I got up and left, without you knowing where I went."

Scully arched an eyebrow. "And how do I contact you?"

"You don't," Krycek said. "If I'm needed, I'll be there."

They laid there for several more minutes without saying anything. Krycek uncrossed his legs and swung them over the edge of the bed. He looked back at Scully for a moment.

She looked back. "Take care, Krycek."

"You too, Agent Scully." Krycek stood and walked out of the room. Scully didn't move until five minutes after she heard the front door shut.

 

* * *

 

I don't own them. TenThirteen Productions does. No copyright infringement intended.  
Rating: NC17 for M/M sex  
Summary: Mulder finds out about Krycek's and Scully's interlude in his apartment.

* * *

Uncertain Allies II: Memory  
by Rat Lover ()

* * * * * * *

The tall man walked into his accomadations, a cheap motel room in the middle of nowhere. He couldn't seem to make himself think of this place as home, temporary or otherwise. But then there really wasn't any place he thought of as home. Not his apartment, that was a place to crash when he wasn't working. Not where he grew up, where he lost his sister. Not the summer home, shrouded with so many sad memories.

Mulder sighed and dropped down on the bed. Things had been getting too hot to handle. Scully had been right in one sense. He had been set up to believe the lie. This 'alien' he was ready to expose to the public had been a hoax. Deep in his heart he knew it. But Scully also had been set up to believe the lie. Just because this turned out to be a hoax did not mean that all the cases he researched were.

He had almost believed the lie, until a strange thought had crossed his mind. What if he was being set up to be eliminated? Perhaps he was too close to a truth that someone did not want him to have. 'Kritchgau,' who came in looking like himself and then morphed into the long lost twin brother Mulder never had, returned later to his apartment, and Mulder had been waiting, with the strange weapon he had found in the Mulder summer home clenched in his fist. A stab to the base of the skull, and a bullet to the temple angled down to hide the first wound completed Mulder's hoax, the lie he wanted the Cigarette Smoking Man to believe. This 'alien' seemed to tend more towards human characteristics, and bled red instead of green, a great piece of luck as far as Mulder was concerned.

On the ubiquitous dresser that all motels seemed to have, Mulder spotted the video tape. He picked it up, turning it over in his fingers. <The Lone Gunmen, dependable as usual.> It was common knowledge that Mulder's apartment was bugged, but some people would be surprised to find out that he had placed half the bugs there himself. There was at least one hidden camera in every room, covering most of the floor space. It was a way he could keep tabs on exactly who was breaking into his apartment.

Mulder wondered who was on the tape this time. The Gunmen had promised to monitor his equipment, after arranging for him to disappear for a while. The last tape had been of Scully discovering 'his' body. That had been a knife to the gut. <I'll make it up to her,> he promised himself. But now he couldn't let her know that he was safe and sound. Her belief in his lie was essential to his plan. But the pain in her "Yes, that's him," and the look in her eyes had torn him apart. <I am a son of a bitch.>

He placed the tape in the VCR he had rented and pressed play. The first scene was a shot of his front door from inside the apartment, taken by the camera hidden in the wall clock. The door inched open and an all too familiar face poked out from behind it, casing the place. <Krycek!> Mulder growled mentally, his hands balling into fists. He studied his former partner and lover, wondering what document or bit of evidence Krycek had come to retrieve. But oddly enough, Krycek seemed uninterested in the paperwork that was strewn about. He walked to the couch, stopping short of the spot where 'Mulder' died. He stood there for several minutes, giving Mulder a chance to study him. Krycek looked every bit as fit as he had in Tunguska, but had a tired, dirty, hang dog look. His leather jacket was draped over his shoulder, threatening to spill to the floor at any moment. But it was Krycek's pale worn face that Mulder was drawn to. Krycek stood there breathing heavily, shaking in his effort to keep himself from crying. Mulder was stunned to see such different from the smart ass look he was used to seeing on his ex-lover when dealing with him recently. <It's an act,> Mulder thought. <Krycek thinks I'm alive. He knows that the apartments bugged. This is just some slick game he's playing to get me to come out of hiding.> But in the back of his mind, he couldn't get over how beautiful Krycek looked in his sorrow.

He had been attracted to Krycek from the moment Mulder had seen him in that ridiculously fitting suit, just as he had been attracted to Scully. But she hadn't responded to his double entendres. Krycek had made them before he even had even know him a day. But it would be too dangerous to start a homosexual relationship under the Bureau's collective nose, let alone the Consortium. There had been an air of innocence about Krycek, a naivete that Mulder had long ago shed and he found appealing. But time had changed both men, hardening them. Mulder sometimes wondered if Krycek ever mourned the death of what might have been. <I doubt the rat bastard wouldn't recognize an honest emotion even if it bit him on the ass.>

The door opened a second time. A resigned look crossed Krycek's face, expecting an assassin's bullet to enter his back. Then the cocky mask fell back into place. Mulder tore his eyes away from Krycek to look at who had stepped into the room. He found himself staring at Scully, who had come in with gun drawn and trained on Krycek. <Shoot him!> Mulder mentally screamed.

But Scully didn't fire. She stood there with a bead drawn on Krycek and said something. Mulder cursed the fact that he hadn't gotten the sound fixed on his bug, having been more concerned with who was in the apartment than the conversations going on in it. He jabbed violently at the remote's volume key, cranking it up all the way. It didn't help much. Mulder could still only hear faint fragments of the conversation - "...last respects...." "...no respect...undiscovered...." "...wrong...expose them."

Mulder gasped as the leather jacket fell away from Krycek's body. He clenched his left hand unconsciously, a wave of pity and tenderness washing over him. <Oh, Alex! What did they do to you?> Mulder had come dangerously close to losing his left arm while in Tunguska. It had taken some fast talking to keep the gulag's truck driver from performing the impromptu amputation. But obviously Krycek hadn't been so lucky. Mulder shook his head, disgusted with himself. <This man was involved with my partner's abduction and the killing of her sister and killed my father.> But all Mulder wanted to do was gather Krycek in his arms, and comfort him, the same way he had been comforted by Krycek.

Having an photographic memory had a price. Almost without volition, he thought back to the night after Scully had disappeared. Skinner had ordered him to go home and get some rest, and not bother to come into work the next day. Mulder had complied with the letter of the law, but not the spirit. Mulder planned to hit the streets after plotting some strategy. He had sources that weren't connected with the FBI after all. He had come home, changed clothes, and sat down. That is as far as he made it before he was overwhelmed with exhaustion and grief. He could only think one thought.

<I failed her. Just like I failed Samantha.>

Mulder sat there, repeating that thought. The semi-darkness of twilight gave way to darkness and still Mulder sat unmoving. After several hours of meditating on his newly found mantra, he heard the knock on the door, but ignored it. "I know you're in there, Mulder. You're car's on the street. I'm not going away until I know you're okay." Mulder still made no move. "You're leaving me no choice, Mulder. I will stand out here all night and yell at the top of my lungs pretending to be your jilted lover until you open the door."

Hazel eyes shut in exasperation. Mulder wanted to be left alone in his misery. And why did Krycek exacerbate his pain by always seeming to make references to a relationship that never could be? "Key's on the frame, Alex."

Krycek opened the door. "You're paranoid about people breaking into your apartment and keep a key on the frame?"

"If they want in bad enough, they'll get in," Mulder said. "You've seen I'm okay. Now leave."

"No such luck, Mulder. Skinner asked me to make sure you do nothing foolish." Krycek walked over to the refrigerator, opening the door. "You're always watching the skies to discover new life forms. Ever thing about looking in your fridge? Geez, Mulder, when was the last time you cleaned it out?"

"Maid's century off," was the curt reply. "Why the hell are you here, Alex? Why do you care?"

Krycek looked back at Mulder, eyes inscrutable. "I'm your partner."

"You may not want the job, given how most of my partners end up." The words were delivered without heat, Mulder being too heartsick to put any bite into his voice. "Go the hell home."

Krycek shook his head. "Uh-uh. My orders are to take care of you Mulder. And I always obey orders." He sat down on the couch next to his partner. "Now tell me what's wrong."

Mulder stared at his lap. So far Krycek had been trustworthy, and shown more inclination to believe him than any of his other partners or coworkers. "I know who took Scully and why."

Krycek's jaw dropped. "W-who? Why?"

Mulder looked up into Krycek's eyes with an earnestness that scared the young man. "My sister was taken from me when I was twelve. I have reason to believe that forces not of this world were involved. I have been searching for Samantha ever since then and the X-Files seemed to be a natural way to find her." Mulder paused, unable to continue.

Krycek filled in the rest of the story. "And the forces that be don't want you uncovering certain facts. So they took Scully, probably to remind you of Samantha and drive you over the edge." Krycek laid a hand on Mulder's shoulder, eyes filled with concern. "Don't let them break you, Mulder. Don't let them win." Mulder slowly turned stared at Krycek, hazel eyes transfixing green. Krycek reached out and pushed an unruly lock of Mulder's hair off his forehead. "It's going to be okay," Krycek said softly.

The stress of the day had crumbled the last of Mulder's inhibitions. With the swiftness of a diving hawk, Mulder dove for Krycek's mouth. Horrified, he pulled away after a split second's contact with Krycek's hot, silky lips. <Oh shit! I did not just do that!> Mulder had been discrete before and this was the first time he had slipped, betraying how much he was attracted to the man before him. But before he could begin to voice an apology, Krycek's mouth had engulfed Mulder's, his tongue demanding entrance. The contact wiped his mind clean of his worries about Scully. The darker haired man wrapped his arms around Mulder and straddled his lap, pressing groins together. Mulder's whimper was answered with one of Krycek's moan.

Mulder eventually pulled away from their kiss to trail his lips down Krycek's neck. "Do you have any idea how long I've wanted this?"

Mulder felt Krycek's Adam's apple bob against his chin as he answered. "I've wanted it since I first met you. When I saw you in that Speedo of yours, I was ready to jump your bones then and there." His hands stroked down to Mulder's groin, tracing around the growing bulge in his sweats. Mulder arched beneath him like a cat who was being petted. "The question is how much do you want?" Krycek whispered in Mulder's ear.

"All of it, Alex." Mulder pulled back to look into Krycek's grass green eyes. His fingers began to fumble at Krycek's shirt buttons. "All of you."

Krycek shivered, unable to believe what Mulder just said. "So I guess my next question is where?" he asked as Mulder finally succeeded at unbuttoning Krycek's shirt.

"Contrary to popular belief, I do have a bed," Mulder said with a lop sided smile. "I just don't like to sleep there."

"Agent Spooky Mulder sleep in a bed like a normal person? Sounds like and X-File to me."

"Fuck you, Krycek."

Krycek laughed and stood up. "I hope so, Mulder," he said, tugging Mulder to his feet. "Or the other way around." Mulder wrapped an arm around Krycek's waist and began to grind against the other man's groin. Krycek groaned and bent backwards, intensifying the contact, his loose shirt brushing the floor. Mulder arched over him, nipping at Krycek's collarbones. "At this rate, we won't make it to the bedroom."

Mulder pulled himself upright, urging Krycek up also. "If my back is going to go out, I want a more satisfying reason."

"Satisfying?" Krycek said. "I'll give you satisfying."

The next few moments were a blur, even with a photographic memory. All Mulder was certain of was that somehow they had managed to get to the bed. Krycek had shed his shirt somewhere along the way, and was tugging Mulder's tee shirt over his head. Krycek happily sighed at the sight of Mulder's bare chest. Practically drooling, he dove for one of the nipples that were begging to be nipped.

Mulder arched beneath Krycek, moaning. Krycek chuckled and stroked one hand down the flat plane of Mulder's stomach, seeking the juncture of his legs. Just before Krycek's fingers brushed the down there, Mulder pulled away, rolling onto his side. <Shit! What am I doing? I'm being seduced by my partner while Scully's out there in the cold dark, having who knows what done to her.> "I can't do this."

Krycek spooned into Mulder's back. "What's wrong, Mulder? Is it that you feel you don't deserve to be happy if she's missing?" Krycek began a gentle massage of the tense shoulders before him. A slight nod was his answer. "She knows how much pain there's been in your life. I think she would want you to be happy." Krycek wasn't exactly sure which 'she' he was talking about, Scully or Samantha.

But Mulder seemed to accept that, because he made no protest when Krycek began stroking his chest. Krycek began with slow sweeps, memorizing the play of muscle over Mulder's chest before focusing on his nipples. Mulder groaned and pushed his ass tighter against Krycek's groin.

"Easy, baby," Krycek whispered against Mulder's neck. He gently rolled the brown nub between his fingers. "It's been a while, hasn't it?"

"Yes." Mulder's whispered and husky with need. "Brining yourself off isn't quite the same."

"Believe me I know." Krycek's left hand left its relentless teasing to slide down Mulder's torso. "I spent many lonely nights wishing I was with you. Touching myself like this," Krycek's hand encircled Mulder's cock, "wishing you were." The hand began a deliberate pumping motion. "And those all night stakeouts were torture." A wet tongue snaked out to caress Mulder's earlobe. "I wanted to shove you into the back seat and screw you until we both saw stars."

Mulder moaned and tossed his head. Krycek grinned and sped up the motions of his hand. "Alex... no. Not... like... this."

Krycek's hand immediately stopped stroking him. "I'm sorry, Mulder. I didn't mean to..."

Mulder laid a finger on Krycek's velvety lips. "It wasn't that, Alex. I just want you to be deep inside my ass when I come." He smiled when he heard Krycek's breath catch in his throat at the image his words provoked. But Krycek didn't make a move. "You do want to fuck?"

Krycek gently stroked along Mulder's hairline. "I'm afraid I'll end up hurting you, Mulder. And I don't want to do that."

Mulder pulled Krycek a little closer. "You can't possibly hurt me any more than I already have been." He silenced Krycek's words with a kiss. "Fuck me, Alex. I want to forget. I *need* to forget."

Krycek groaned and rolled Mulder onto his belly. "Do you have any lube? Condoms?"

"Top left dresser drawer." Krycek kissed behind Mulder's ear. Mulder felt the mattress shift as Krycek backed off the bed. He heard the young man <my lover> rummaging through the dresser.

"Got 'em." Krycek bounded back to the bed. Mulder shivered as he heard the rip of foil. Then he felt a slick finger probing his anus and then glide inside. In reflex, Mulder tightened down. "Easy, Mulder," Krycek soothed. The finger began to twist and curl. And when he found what he was searching for, Mulder thought he had died and gone to heaven. Krycek pulled out his single finger and attacked Mulder's prostate with two, rubbing against the gland with every thrust. After a few minutes of relentless finger fucking, Krycek withdrew. Mulder, knowing what would come next, eagerly raised his ass into the air. Krycek placed a pillow under Mulder's stomach, allowing him easy access to the swollen cock.

Mulder whimpered when Krycek laid down on top of him. It felt good, aside from the sexual arousal, to have another body covering him. Krycek slid his hands up and down Mulder's sides. "Make me forget, Alex."

Krycek kissed the back of Mulder's ear. With trembling hands, Krycek placed his cock at Mulder's tight entrance and began to penetrate. "Oh God, baby. You're so tight," Krycek murmured. For Mulder it was part pain, part pleasure, and complete rapture. And when Krycek put a hand around Mulder's cock and began to thrust, Mulder's rapture increased tenfold.

It had been a long time for both men, and release came quickly - Mulder with a hoarse scream of joy, Krycek with a quieter but no less pleased grunt. Afterwards, Krycek held Mulder close, stroking his new lover's body, memorizing its contours. Neither man spoke, but instead fell asleep holding each other. Mulder was certain that for once in his life, he would not be hurt in this relationship.

Mulder had been wrong. Krycek did hurt him worse than anyone ever had. It had been a knife to the heart to find the Morley cigarette butts in Krycek's car.

The hiss of static finally brought Mulder back to the here and now. He had been so caught up in the memory, he had let the tape play out. Picking up the remote, he reversed it to the point where he had first zoned out. He watched the conversation with the volume at full blast, but the audio feed on the bugs had completely failed.

He watched Krycek head off to his bedroom, and Scully to the phone. The feed was edited at that point, because the next scene was Scully rifling through Krycek's clothes. Of the younger man, there was no sign. <What are you doing Scully?> He could not figure out why Scully was reacting so calmly to Krycek's presence in his apartment.

The tape spliced again. Now the scene showed Scully and Krycek on his bed, eating dinner like they were old friends. Or that's what he thought until he saw Scully reach out and place a hand on Krycek's left shoulder, and Krycek stroke Scully's cheek. <Don't you dare,> he thought, not certain who the comment was directed towards. And there was no mistaking his feelings of jealousy and envy when he saw them kiss. <And what are you upset about? Are you angry about the fact that Krycek is kissing Scully and 'cheating' on you? Or that he's doing what you never had the nerve to do? Or that Scully is kissing Krycek and you want to be the one kissing him?>

But before he could chase that thought down further, Krycek lightly touched between Scully's eyes. <Don't act like you didn't know, bastard,> Mulder thought. <She's dying and you're part of the reason.> And then he watched as Krycek got off the bed, collected his jacket, and leave.

And Scully did nothing to stop him.

Mulder shut off the VCR. He leaned back against the headboard with a thoughtful frown. After his 'resurrection,' he would have a long talk with Scully. And then he would hunt down Krycek. Either to kill him or to fuck him.

Mulder wasn't sure which, yet. 

 

* * *

 

Disclaimer: I borrowed my toys from TenThirteen Productions. No copyright infringement intended but Chris Carter needs to learn to take better car of his stuff, especially Alex. If he keeps breaking his toys, we'll just have to take them away from him.  
Synopsis: Krycek checks in with Scully, and runs into Mulder.  
Spoilers through Redux II.  
NC17 for slash. This means M/M sex! No minors squeamish people allowed!  
Author's Note: This story contains deliberate continuity errors from Uncertain Allies I and II. I made changes to the time line only, and not the actual events. Hey, if Chris Carter can do it, why can't I? ;-)  
Special thanks to Ratgirl and Jill for the wonderful job they did beta reading.  
Previous Uncertain Allies stories are available on my homepage -  
http://www.imadethis.org/

* * *

Uncertain Allies III: Liasion  
by Rat Lover ()  
Completed Feb 14, 1998

Scully gave a deep sigh and relaxed in the bed. She had been feeling so ill for so long that she had forgotten how good it felt when she was well. She had been healed, but at what cost? One of *their* implants was back inside of her, and would be a permanent part of her for the foreseeable future. But at this point, being alive was enough.

She closed her eyes and let herself drift towards sleep. The overzealous nurses had shooed out Skinner, Mulder and her family once visiting hours were over. It felt good to be alone for the first time in several hours. She didn't open her eyes when she heard the creak of the door being opened. "Mulder?" she mumbled sleepily. <It would be like him to sneak back in and watch over me,> she thought.

"It's not Mulder," an all too familiar voice said.

"Alex!" Scully's eyes flew open wide to stare into Krycek's green ones. The young man stood there, watching from inside the doorway. He looked very much the same as she had last seen him in Mulder's apartment. Only now he had two arms, both hands covered in black leather gloves. <One must be prosthetic,> she thought. "How did you get in here?"

"Two twenties. Despite what HMO's tell you, nurses are notoriously underpaid." Krycek waked over to the chair beside the bed. "You could have told me it was a lie, Dana," he said somewhat sadly as he sat down.

So much had happened in the short space of seventy two hours - Mulder faking his death, her finding Krycek in Mulder's apartment, Krycek's revelation that he and Mulder had been lovers, her collapse as she tried to accuse the government that she worked for of giving her this disease, Mulder finding a cure, and learning of the supposed death of the Cigarette Smoking Man; was a shock, to put it mildly. "Alex," Scully said softly. "It was important that *they* believe that Mulder was dead, even if only for a few hours." She closed her eyes, exhausted.

Noting her tiredness, Krycek mentally cursed himself. <Scully's dying, and here I am causing her more pain. Shit, can't I do anything right?> he thought. "I'm sorry." Krycek took one of her hands in his. "I haven't been able to find a cure."

Scully opened her eyes and cocked her head at him. "You don't know, Alex?" she asked. "I'm in remission. There is no trace of the cancer in my body."

"You're healed?" Krycek blinked and let go of her. One part of him felt wildly glad, as if her healing had shriven him of part of his sin. But another part felt despondent, that she would only accept Krycek because of her need for a cure. "I guess you won't be needing my help then."

Scully thought for a moment and then chose her words carefully. "We exposed Blevins, Alex. But there are more of Them out there. We could use your help."

"Not we, you," Krycek said with a sardonic laugh. "Somehow I don't think Mulder will accept me with open arms. Closed fists are more likely."

"You and Mulder shared something special, Alex," Scully protested. <Something he and I haven't shared,> she thought with a bit of jealousy.

Krycek shook his head. "But you know Mulder, quick to love or hate. And once you've earned his hatred, there's no going back. Have you heard of Phoebe Green?"

Scully nodded. "I know who you're talking about."

"Then you know how that bitch hurt him." Krycek sighed and looked down into his lap. "And I hurt him even more. I shouldn't be here," he said, changing gears abruptly. "They are probably watching you and sending people to assassinate me even as we speak." He stood up. "I should go." Stroking Scully's hair back from her eyes with his right hand, Krycek leaned forward to kiss her, as he had that first time. But this time he chickened out at the last moment. But before he could pull back, Scully put a hand behind his head and pulled his lips to hers.

It was a chaste kiss, just a brushing of closed lips. Krycek seemed perfectly comfortable with this intimacy, until Scully reached for his left hand. At that point he pulled back. Scully understood his discomfort and eased away.

Krycek stood up. "Remember, just because They want you alive now doesn't mean that They won't change their mind later." There was no threat in his voice, just cautious reminder.

"I know, Alex. And the same applies to you. Be careful." Scully watched as Krycek nodded once, and then turned and walked out the swinging hospital door. She sighed, confused about her feelings towards this man. Her head said that he was a lying rat bastard that couldn't be trusted, while her heart was strongly attracted to his dangerous good looks. And then there was what she felt towards Mulder - an affection stronger than mere friendship, but she was not ready to tell him that she loved him. <I have a lot of thinking to do,> she thought. <But first I have a lot of healing to do.>

\----------------------------------------------------------

After being shooed out of Scully's room, he hadn't gone home. Mulder was still deliriously happy that she had been healed. But his reaction to the news of the Cancerman's supposed death was mixed - joy that his nemesis was dead, and despair that he may have lost his only hope of finding Samantha again. Unable to believe that both realities had come to pass, he stayed at the hospital, avoiding nurses and constantly peeking into Scully's room to verify that she was still alive and well.

He was coming out of the elevator into the deserted corridor, just having gone to the cafeteria. <Food's just as bad as the Bureau's,> he thought, heading towards Scully's room. He wasn't going to disturb her rest, but watch over her for his peace of mind. But his peaceful illusions were shattered when he saw who was leaving Scully's room. His hand automatically went to his hip holster when he saw Krycek slip through the door. Krycek glanced in his direction, and locked eyes. Both men were frozen for a moment. Then Krycek bolted like a frightened deer into the stairwell. Mulder pounded after him. Taking a flying leap down four stairs, he crashed into Krycek and pinned him on the landing. Mulder had Krycek by the throat, his gun centimeters from the skin between Krycek's eyes. "What did you do to her!" he snarled in Krycek's ear.

"Nothing! I did nothing!" Krycek choked out. "I've been trying to help her."

The gun traced over Krycek's cheek to press against the underside of his jaw. "And why the hell should I believe you?" Mulder gritted out between clenched teeth. You've done nothing but lie to me since we first met."

Krycek's response was as honest and sincere as he could make it. "I didn't lie to you about one thing."

Mulder's grip on Krycek's throat tightened, causing the young man to gag. "If you value your life, Krycek," he hissed. "Don't talk about that!" At the moment, the last thing he wanted to discuss was their sexual relationship. Mulder looked around, trying to decide what to do. He appeared to come to a decision. "You are going to stand up and put your hands into your pockets. Then we are going downstairs to the parking lot. If you move your hands or try anything funny, consider yourself dead."

Krycek nodded and rose cautiously. The gun started traveling again. It slid down his neck, never breaking contact with his body, to trail over his shoulder to come to rest in the small of his back. Krycek shivered as the gun was pressed against his spine. He and Mulder walked down the emergency stairwell. Although Krycek showed every sign of complying with his orders, Mulder did not let his guard down for a moment. He guided his former partner downstairs and into the parking lot and to his car. "On your knees, Krycek. Hands on your head and cross your ankles."

Krycek obeyed. When Mulder pulled out a set of standard issue handcuffs and began snapping them on his wrists, both flesh and plastic, Krycek couldn't resist the urge to comment, "You were always kinky, Mulder."

Mulder hauled Krycek roughly to his feet. Before Krycek gained his balance, he kicked the younger man square in the ass, making Krycek stumble and fall. Because his hands were cuffed behind him, Krycek couldn't catch himself and landed hard on his face with a loud grunt. Mulder calmly put a foot, and most of his weight on Krycek's back, and proceeded to unlock his trunk. Krycek cautiously lifted his scraped head, his nose already changing colors. "What are you doing, Mulder?"

"Can't have a rat like you running loose in the front seat, can we?" Mulder again lifted Krycek to his feet. "Get in."

"No way, Mulder!" Krycek planted his feet and shook his head violently, leaning backwards. Even before the silo incident, he had been uneasy when alone in small, enclosed spaces, a legacy of being locked in a closet as as child. "No fucking way! Handcuff me to the steering wheel. Hog tie me in the back seat. But don't lock me in there."

Mulder cocked the gun and placed it to Krycek's temple. "I'm not giving you a choice," he said, perversely taking pleasure from Krycek's obvious distress.

"Mulder, please, don't make me do this!" Krycek, despite the gun, was twisting backwards and away from the car. He had broken out into a cold sweat. Mulder shoved Krycek forward again and cocked the gun. Krycek shivered and froze, obviously trying to decide which he feared more, being killed or being penned in. And while he was thinking, the butt of the gun impacted with the back of his head. Caught off guard, Krycek reeled and briefly blacked out. But when he came to, he was curled in the trunk, staring up at Mulder. Mulder started to lower the lid. "C'mon, Mulder. Don't close it. Just tie it off so it's open just a bit. Mulder don't do this. Mulllllllderrrrr!" The lid closed and the lock clicked. Now Krycek was in a dark, quiet place, almost womb-like, except Krycek was far from an innocent babe.

<He's not going anywhere,> Mulder thought. Then he rushed back up to Scully's room. Scully was half asleep when he opened the door. Before she could say anything, Mulder standing was above her. He bent down. "I just wanted to make sure you're okay."

"I'm fine, Mulder," Scully whispered as his lips brushed her forehead. "I just need some sleep." <And I'm not about to tell you who was here just a few minutes ago.>

"Okay." He stepped back and eyed the machines keeping track of her vital signs. Everything looked normal. <Maybe he's telling the truth.> "I'll see you tomorrow." But Scully was already asleep.

So Mulder went back to his car and got into the driver's seat. Krycek was making no sounds that he could hear. He sat there for a few minutes, weighing his options. Taking Krycek back to his place was out of the question. <God only knows how many bugs there are there.> If he took Krycek to jail, his erstwhile partner would be dead before dawn. He did not want a repeat of what happened when he went to Skinner for a safe house. So there was really only one option. Mulder turned over the ignition, now certain of what he was going to do.

\----------------------------------------------------------

The ride to wherever they were going was a nightmare for Krycek, while he was awake and asleep. Both states blended together in the darkness. For the first hour, he struggled against his restraints, but only succeeded in pulling his prosthetic arm out of contact with his shoulder. The rest of the time he spent silently screaming in terror of the close darkness, taunted by the ghost memories of his father. But he would *not* give Mulder the satisfaction of hearing him suffer. But near the end of the journey, he fell asleep, exhausted by his fears and phantoms, but not finding a safe haven from them while unconscious.

It was dark when Mulder pulled up to the cottage in Quonochontaug, Rhode Island. He had thought long and hard about what he was going to do during the lengthy drive. He got out of the car and went to the trunk. Mulder opened the trunk and stared down at the half-conscious man. <All we shared was one night,> Mulder thought. <And he was probably ordered to do it. So why the hell am I giving him another chance to hurt me?> "Up and at 'em, Krycek," he said with false cheerfulness, jerking his former partner out of the trunk. "I thought a rat like you would be nocturnal."

Krycek, legs protesting and cramping, shot Mulder a dirty look and let himself be guided up the steps. Stumbling, Krycek tripped over the threshold. Mulder, acting on instinct, grabbed at Krycek's left wrist to keep him from falling. And to his horror, the arm held still but Krycek kept falling. Startled, Mulder let go. The younger man landed with a thud, and made no attempt to get back up. Mulder had completely forgotten about the prosthetic, and how he probably got it. Mulder nudged Krycek with his foot. "Get up," he said, kicking the door shut.

Krycek, having regained some of his composure now that he was in open air, slowly rose to his knees. Once back on his feet, he turned and glared at Mulder. "I'd at least like to keep my dignity. Mind reattaching my arm?"

The plea was actually a power game. Krycek was trying to force Mulder into acknowledging what had happened in Russia. Without a word, Mulder unzipped the jacket. The prosthetic arm slid from the sleeve and dangled lifelessly from the handcuffs. Roughly jerking the leather away from his captive's body, he pulled it over Krycek's right shoulder and down both arms. Then he repeated the process with Krycek's shirt. Despite telling himself that now was not the time nor the place, Mulder found himself staring at Krycek's chest the way he had when they had been lovers.

Even though he had been on the run, Krycek had taken good care of himself. The muscles before him were even more well defined than before. But two things marred the perfection - the truncated limb and the angry red blisters from where the prosthetic rubbed the flesh raw. Something inside of Mulder eased. <He's suffered as much as I have. Maybe even more, because he has no one to turn to,> Mulder thought. His eyes then rested on the empty sleeve. <But for the grace of God...,> Mulder thought with sadness. He reached out and touched Krycek's left shoulder gently, fingertips barely grazing his skin. "Tunguska?"

"What do you think?" Krycek snapped and looked away. He knew Mulder's moods could shift faster than quicksilver. He could stand being beaten by his former lover. But he would not be able to survive Mulder treating him tenderly and then kicking the shit out of him. Instead he did a quick scan of the room he found himself in. "Where the hell are we?"

"Someplace safe." Mulder looked around the summer home. After ransacking the place for whatever his mother was trying to tell him, he had come back and cleaned up. He had mixed emotions about being back here, knowing what probably happened here between his mother and the Smoking Man, and that this was where it probably had happened. But the Cancerman was probably now dead. And it was the only place he could think of off the top of his head to stash Krycek for the moment.

Krycek shook his head in disbelief. "You just don't get it, Mulder. Do you? No place is safe for us." He took a step towards Mulder. "Because of who and what we are, there is no safe haven for us. Not for me, not for you, not for your precious Scully. The only thing we have is the illusion of safety. You're an idiot to think otherwise."

As he felt his anger flare anew at the insult, Mulder realized what was happening. Krycek was trying to provoke him into attacking and probably killing him. Mulder had once said that he would live long enough to do that, but found that the words had been and empty threat. The anger turned in a heartbeat into pity. "And you don't even have that, do you, Krycek?" Mulder whispered huskily. "For all you know, I brought you here to kill you."

"Ever since you found those damn Morley butts in my car, you've wanted to kill me," Krycek said, staring Mulder in the eye. "So why don't you just get it over with. Avenge your father's death. Eye for an eye and all that shit."

"You have answers I need, Krycek. Even if I wanted to kill you, you're more valuable to me alive." Now Mulder reached up to stroke Krycek's cheek. "You've developed a death wish, Alex. You want to die."

Krycek turned away from Mulder's intense gaze and gentle caress. "I don't have any reason to live."

Gentle fingers forced Krycek to look back at Mulder. "Let me give you a reason." He closed the distance between them, intending to bestow a gentle kiss.

Krycek ducked away from Mulder's head. "You don't want me. You're just trying to get me off guard so you or a Consortium assassin can finish me off."

"Jeez, Alex! You sound even more paranoid than I do." Mulder shook his head. "I need answers only you can provide. And I would never work with *them*."

Krycek's eyes narrowed suspiciously. <There is no way Mulder could still care for me,> he thought. "Then it's a pity fuck," he said, gesturing with his truncated arm.

"Sorry, I'm keeping all my pity for me at the moment." Mulder gently stroked Krycek's hair. "You just can't accept the fact that I might still have feelings for you, despite everything you've done."

"You don't mean that," Krycek said dully, not daring to hope.

Mulder shook his head. "You're the liar in this relationship, remember? You were so distraught that you even forgot to put on your arm" His voice was a rough burr. "I know why you came to my apartment when you thought I was dead. But I want to hear you say why."

Krycek held himself tensely away from Mulder's body, although all he wanted to do was to sink into his former lover's arms. "I can't, Mulder. I just can't." He had been running for his life, and from his feelings, for too long to become instantly vulnerable.

"It's okay," Mulder soothed, taking Krycek in his arms. He wasn't sure he could verbalize what he felt for this man. Scully would say that his feelings had to do with an unconscious desire to punish himself, to self-flagellate to make up for 'failing' Samantha. But it had taken him even longer to realize that the truth was even more complicated. To distract the two of them, he nuzzled Krycek's neck, tonguing where shoulder met neck. "Ever have the fantasy about making out in your parent's bed without getting caught?"

Krycek buried his head in Mulder's shoulder and repeated what he had said in the parking lot. "You always were a pervert, Mulder."

Mulder began sucking on the skin behind Krycek's ear. "That wasn't the question, Alex."

Krycek arched against Mulder's body as a warm, wet tongue invaded his ear. But still he fought against giving in to his desire. "You can't find me sexy. Not after..." He turned away from Mulder and walked over to the window, staring into the distance.

He jumped when he felt Mulder's arms go to either side of him, palms resting against the wall. He was effectively trapped between Mulder's body, and the wall, a trap he had no desire to escape. Mulder pressed forward, nestling the bulge in his jeans against Krycek's ass. "Feel what you've done to me, Alex." He lunged his hips forward, making Krycek moan and squirm. "You made this, Alex. This is pure unadulterated lust for your body. " Mulder's voice was a mere whisper in his ear. "Now answer my question. Have you had the fantasy about making out on your parent's bed without getting caught?"

Krycek bowed his head. Mulder was certain he was going to be rejected when he heard Krycek's reply. "You know I have." Mulder swore he could hear tears in Krycek's voice, although his eyes were dry. "Do you want to make it a reality?"

As an answer, Mulder hustled the younger man to what was once his parents' bedroom. Krycek though he would pass out from the pleasure being inflicted on him. Mulder's hands seemed to be everywhere at once, cradling his head, brushing his lips, toying with his nipples, cupping his ass, tugging at his fly. Mulder slowly lowered the zipper, delighted to find that Krycek was still wearing the boxers Scully had loaned him from Mulder's clothes.

And soon Mulder had rid Krycek of them. He stepped back to admire the young man. Krycek's cock was fully erect, the head of his cock glistening with precum. His balls, heavy with seed, hung beneath the pointing organ. Mulder tore his gaze away from Krycek's genitals, not without a sigh, to map the rest of the planes and angles of his lover's body. Krycek blushed under the intense scrutiny, reminding Mulder of a shy teenager, uncertain about his looks, who was naked in front of his partner for the first time. <He's not comfortable about his loss, yet,> he thought sadly. The old Krycek he knew would be displaying his body, provoking an onslaught of feverish kisses. His eyes caressed Krycek's abdomen, working their way up past the heaving diaphragm to follow the flow of muscle down Krycek's right arm, admiring the long, slender hand and elegant fingers. Then he noted something. "Do you want it on?"

Krycek blinked, confused by the question. "What are you talking about?"

Mulder took a step closer. "You asked me to reattach it earlier." He gestured to the artificial arm, still dangling from Krycek's by the attached handcuff. "Do you want it on while we fuck?"

Krycek pondered the question. He loathed the prosthetic almost as much as he loathed the stump, both were constant mocking reminders of his actions and their consequences. To have his arm on would put him in a position of power - he could remind Mulder with an artificial touch of what he had been through. In fact he could hurt his lover, claiming that he wasn't able to sense how hard he was squeezing. But he mostly found himself not wanting to hurt Mulder anymore. <Lead me not into temptation, I can find it myself.> And the temptation would be great since a dark corner of his soul still blamed Mulder for the loss of his arm. If Mulder hadn't attempted the Great Escape, as Krycek thought of it, he would still have his arm. Or so an inner voice argued, competing with the one that cried out for Mulder's affection. "Off," he whispered, making his decision. "Off is best."

Mulder nodded. He kneeled, producing the keys to the handcuffs. He unlocked the shackles, and tossed the keys and cuffs, artificial arm still attached, onto the table beside the bed. But he did not let go of Krycek's hand. Instead, he pulled the young man closer, nuzzling and kissing the

bruised wrist, before taking Krycek's waist between his hands. Krycek's eyes closed and his breathing quickened. <I don't deserve this,> he thought as Mulder's tongue brushed against the tip of his cock. Krycek twisted away. But instead of Mulder pulling him forward, as Krycek expected, he was pushed backwards. Stumbling, his legs hit the mattress behind him and Krycek fell onto the bed. And Mulder went down with and on him. Krycek continued to squirm, not able to stand the onslaught of Mulder's talented mouth, but not wanting it to stop.

The whimpering noises Krycek was emitting made Mulder smile. <You've had the power in this relationship too long,> he thought. <Time for some payback.> So he concentrated on sucking on the cock in front of him, teasing the underside of the head with light flicks of his tongue, scraping his teeth gently along the throbbing vein, and sucking hard as if Krycek were a piece of hard candy and he had were breaking his diet. He was highly gratified by the sounds escaping Krycek's mouth - soft moans of pleasure.

But that wasn't enough for Mulder. Despite Krycek's groan of protest, his lips left Krycek's cock and Mulder kissed his way up to his head. He hovered over Krycek's face, forcing the man beneath him to make the next move. Krycek's hand traced Mulder's cheek to start fumbling with the buttons of his shirt. Mulder held still, forcing Krycek to awkwardly deal with this obstacle. Soon the shirt was dangling off Mulder's sides, the dark nipples erect in mimicry of Mulder's cock. Krycek arched up and covered the nipple with his mouth. Mulder sat up, cradling his lover's head against his chest. Krycek sucked fiercely and reached between their bodies. Mulder's breath sped up more as Krycek's fingers danced over the erection hidden behind his fly, freeing the other man's cock. He grasped both Mulder's and his and began stroking. Krycek broke away from Mulder's chest when a second hand descended to tighten the grip and speed up the rhythm. His lips blindly sought Mulder's.

Mulder groaned. Krycek was a master fucker of both mind and body. He would bring Mulder to the brink, and then slow down, no matter how Mulder tried to force his hand to speed up. Mulder eventually pulled Krycek's hand away. Kneeling between Krycek's legs, Mulder scooped up Krycek's ass and began licking Krycek's cock and balls. And then his tongue went lower, tracing the perineum until he reached the puckered opening. With a reverent kiss, Mulder ever so slowly pushed his tongue inside Krycek's unprotesting body.

Krycek shuddered, tossing his head back and forth. <I can't take this,> he thought in desperation, hand clutching the sheets in a sweat drenched fist. He had expected a hard and quick rut, not this worshipful tenderness. He almost lost it when he felt the vibrations of Mulder's mouth when he said something with his lips still pressed against Krycek's ass. He sucked in a desperate and shaky breath. "Whhhhhhhat?"

Mulder kissed his way back up to Krycek's mouth, his hips making small rotating movements. "I don't have any condoms. Do you?"

Krycek shook his head. "But I'm clean," he blurted out. <Please believe me, Mulder.> He wouldn't be able handle stopping after being so near to having Mulder inside of him.

Mulder stared deep into Krycek's grass green eyes. <He's sincere. But he doesn't know if I am,> he thought. <You're living too dangerously, Alex.> But he didn't voice any of these thoughts. Instead, Mulder gathered the fluid weeping from Krycek's cock in his fingers. "You're sure?" Krycek nodded and closed his eyes. Mulder gently, slowly, slid one finger inside Krycek's ass, savoring the heat. Just as slowly, he pulled it out, making Krycek writhe. Then he repeated the motion with two fingers, spreading them as he withdrew.

"You *are* planning to kill me!" the younger man hissed, twisting as Mulder hit his prostate. "You're going to fuck me to death!" Krycek lifted his head, half glaring, half pleading. "Just do it to me!"

Mulder smiled at the snarl in his lover's voice. <That is the Alex I know,> he thought with satisfaction. He sat up and stroked his precum over his own cock, barely wanting to touch himself for fear that he would end this prematurely. Then Mulder snaked along Krycek's body, impaling his lover in one smooth motion. Both men moaned, savoring the sensation of being impaled or sheathed. But that only lasted for a second before Mulder began thrusting, relishing the slap of his balls against Krycek's perfect ass. Krycek reached for his own cock. Mulder pulled the hand away, entwining his fingers in his lover's. His other hand went to the back of Krycek's head, cradling the younger man in his arms. Experimentally, Krycek clenched his sphincter slightly, making Mulder cry out and thrust with wild abandon.

Afterwards, neither man could say who came first. Both men came at almost the same moment, silently and desperately in a deep kiss. But even as the orgasm faded, the kiss did not. Without breaking lip contact, Mulder pulled the sheets over their still, sweating forms, wrapping them in a cocoon of warmth. Once the kiss ended, there were several equally long and tender follow-up kisses. The gentle exploration continued, both sets of fingers reacquainting themselves with skin and muscle they thought they would never feel again.

Eventually they ended up curled together spoon style, Mulder taking the outer spoon. He nuzzled Krycek's neck lazily. "Alex?"

"Yes, Mulder?" Despite himself, Krycek, while not exactly falling asleep, was fighting the relaxed sensation that would dull his instincts and possibly lead to his death.

"Don't leave." The arm around Krycek's midsection tightened possessively, and warningly. "I don't want to wake up alone tomorrow."

"Mulder, I..."

"No excuses, Alex. We can figure some way to keep you safe. And we have to talk about Scully."

Krycek's head shifted fractionally. "What about Scully?" he asked, although he had an idea where this conversation would head.

"I know what happened between you two in my apartment."

<The kiss,> Krycek thought. <He's jealous about the kiss.> "I thought you were dead," Krycek said in mild protest.

<I shouldn't have brought it up now.> Their relationship was complicated enough, without adding Scully to the dynamics. Mulder laid his fingers across Krycek's lips. "We'll talk about it in the morning. Just go to sleep, Alex."

Krycek nodded. There was no further conversation, for fear of breaking the fragile truce they had constructed.

\----------------------------------------------------------

He could feel himself stretched out in the bed, his left arm stretched over his head. The room smelled of sex. Mulder could also feel the warmth of the sun streaming through the half drawn shades of the window. <At least he took the wet spot,> Mulder thought with a lazy smile. Catlike and still half asleep, he yawned and stretched his right above his head.

And became fully awake when he couldn't retract his left arm. Mulder opened his eyes and realized that he was alone in the large bed. He sat up a bit and squinted. His hand was handcuffed to the headboard. "Alex?" he called, trying to ignore the queasy uneasiness that was rising from his stomach. Not hearing any response, he began to twist onto either side, searching for the key. Finding it on the bed stand, he unlocked the cuffs. But the prosthetic arm was missing from the table.

He got up and grabbed his jacket. His gun was still in its holster. The nagging certainty would not leave him alone. He pulled on his slacks and went out to the living room. It was the same as when he opened the door. Except for the note laying on the couch.

"Mulder," was written in Krycek's precise handwriting. "I told you last night that there was no safe place for us. I was wrong. Last night I felt safe in your arms for the first time in a long time.

"But last night is not this morning. If I stay with you, we would both be dead within a week. Please believe me that this is not how I wanted things to be between us. I never meant to hurt you in any way.

"I couldn't say it last night. But I can write it this morning.

"I love you.

"Alex."

Mulder stared at the note for several minutes and then looked out at the late morning sun. He crumpled the note in his fist, trying to formulate a plan for what he would do the next time he crossed paths with Alex Krycek.

End

Rat Lover  
  
http://www.imadethis.org/

 

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Obviously I don't own them, or things would be run very differently. They belong to TenThirteen Productions and no copyright infringement intended.  
Okay this is NC-17 for m/m sex. No kiddes or squeamish please. Flames will be cheerfully deleted.   
Bigtime spoilers for Patient X/The Red and the Black. Consider yourself warned.  
ThanX as always to Jill and Ratgirl for beta reading and nudging when needed.  
Synopsis: Krycek pays Mulder a little visit.  
Previous Uncertain Allies stories are available on my homepage -  
http://www.imadethis.org/

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Uncertain Allies IV: The Kiss  
By RatLover  


Mulder couldn't believe the situation.

He had come home after delivering his report to Assistant Director Skinner. For once, he had given his boss a rational explanation for what Scully and the other survivors of the massacre on that bridge in Pennsylvania had experienced. And then Skinner, the non-believer had the gall to tell him that "extraterrestrial phenomena was a more plausible explanation." So he had left in disgust, without a word to Scully. Mulder had come directly home, only to find a note on his floor. A note Alex Krycek had left for him.

All throughout his conversation with his ex-partner, Mulder felt that the roles had been reversed. Krycek was talking about a coming alien invasion with perfect seriousness, and Mulder was discounting his every word. "You're a murderer, a liar, and a coward," he had retorted. "Just because you stick a gun to my chest, I'm supposed to believe you're my friend?" He winced internally at how bitter the words sounded. If the situation were reversed, he would be holding a gun on Krycek.

His former partner considered that momentarily. "Get up," he said, moving away slightly, allowing Mulder to sit up. "I was sent by a man," Krycek said. "A man who knows, as I do, the resistance is in our grasp, and in yours. The mass incinerations were strikes by an alien rebellion to upset plans for occupation. Now, one of these rebels is being held captive. And if he dies... So does the resistance."

Then Krycek leaned forward and kissed Mulder's cheek. Mulder didn't move away, nor did he reciprocate. Krycek broke the kiss with a loud smack, and looked into Mulder's eyes. In a moment of reckless bravado, he twirled the gun in his fingers, offering the butt to Mulder. 'Kill my body,' he thought. 'You've already killed my heart with your coldness.' Standing, he slowly turned to leave. 'This will be the last time I see him.' "Good luck to you, my friend," he said, too heartsick to realize he had slipped into the Russian he had been speaking so much lately. Then he strode on, resolute.

Mulder sat there for a long moment, stunned at what had just happened. He looked at the gun in his hand and at the retreating back and came to a decision. Swiftly he stood and followed Krycek out of his apartment. Krycek didn't look back, but the split second break in the younger man's stride told Mulder that he knew he was being followed. 'I shouldn't do this,' a critical voice that sounded remarkably like his father's chided. But that voice shut up when his eyes slid over Krycek's form to rest on his ass.

Just as Mulder caught up with Krycek, the elevator door opened. The younger man slipped inside as soon as the doors were wide enough to admit him. Krycek reached over, punching the 'close door' button. But he wasn't quite fast enough. Mulder blocked the doors open and stepped inside. Both men stared eye to each other, wondering what would happen next, Krycek preparing to be beaten.

What happened next, however, was not completely unexpected by Krycek. "I need to know, Alex." Mulder advanced to within inches of Krycek's face, close enough for each man to taste the other's breath. His voice was deadly earnest, voicing a doubt he had carried for a long time. "Were you ordered to sleep with me?"

He stared back at Mulder unashamed. There was no hesitation in Krycek's answer. "I was not ordered to fall in love with you." His chin lifted a little higher, making it clear that he had never harbored the idea of betraying Mulder that way. Whatever Mulder thought of him, Krycek had kept faith with Mulder in that one important way.

The words took Mulder's breath away. Closing the last few inches, the older man kissed Krycek, pressing him against the wall. Mulder kissed Krycek the way Krycek had wanted to kiss Mulder scant minutes ago, warm and pliant lips feasting on the moist and ripe mouth beneath them, tongue probing, taking what was offered, but not demanding more than his lover was willing to give.

But Krycek was willing to give Mulder everything. After spending endless minutes dueling with Mulder's tongue, he began kissing and nipping Mulder's neck, paying particular attention to his adam's apple. Mulder groaned and slid his hands down to Krycek's ass, frustrated that the denim was so tight that he couldn't slip his hands inside the material. Krycek reacted as if Mulder had touched bare flesh and thrust his hips into the older man's with a hungry moan.

Mulder turned away from Krycek for a moment and hit the 'emergency stop' button on the panel. He couldn't let Krycek just walk out of his life like this. Turning back to his former partner, Mulder fell to his knees with a thud, all the while staring into those wide green eyes. Krycek shook his head no as Mulder raised his hands to his crotch. "No," he whispered.

Hazel eyes pierced green. "Do you want me to stop?" Mulder asked, fingers ever so lightly tracing Krycek's cock and balls through the fabric.

Krycek took a deep breath and leaned his head back against the wall. Mouth sagging open, he shook his head slowly from side to side. Mulder peeled the jeans and briefs away from Krycek's hips, the younger man wiggling to aid the process. For all too few precious minutes, there would be no Consortium, no Black Oil, no betrayal. There would only be two star crossed lovers sharing their bodies and their pleasure in an all too brief encounter.

Krycek hissed and clenched his fist at Mulder's first touch on his exposed cock, his ex-partner's nose tracing up the underside to place a feather light kiss on the tip. Mulder grinned at the reaction. "Been a while, Alex?" he said, tugging Krycek's hips a little further forward.

Mulder was so intent on the bobbing erection in front of him that he didn't see Krycek bite his lips to keep from blurting anything out. 'No!' Krycek's mind replied. 'Yesterday I fucked that blond informant of yours. But she was no where as good as you are.' He approached the sexual relationship with Covarrubias the same way he had approached his deal with Cancerman - a rather unpleasant thing he was willing to go through to get ahead in life. The sex had been good, but only because he had fantasized it was Mulder he was with the whole time, no mean feat given the obvious physical differences between Mulder and Covarrubias. The fact that the bitch had stabbed him in the back before he could betray her just added to a sense of wounded pride.

Krycek looked down at Mulder. The older man's left hand was caressing his ass, the middle finger of his right swirling in and out of that luscious mouth with its sinfully tempting lower lip. His hazel eyes with their green flecks and worshipful expression never wavered from Krycek's cock. 'I can't do this, not after...,' Krycek thought. Oddly enough, he felt more ashamed for sleeping with Covarrubias than he did for spying on Mulder, as if he had betrayed his lover in a worse way. He was a lying rat bastard who didn't deserve the blindingly blissful pleasure Mulder would bestow. He began to twist to the side, trying to avoid Mulder.

"Oh no you don't!" Mulder exclaimed. He knew that Krycek was not telling the whole truth, and he had come to the realization that he probably would never learn it from his lover. But he wouldn't let Krycek's past sins come between them at this moment. The next time he saw Krycek, he would probably fall back into the same old pattern - slap his ex-partner around, accuse him of killing his father and kidnapping Scully, and then momentarily forgiving and fucking him. 'Don't go there,' he warned himself. Wanting to forget, if only for a few minutes, he pinned Krycek to the wall with his free left arm and swallowed Krycek's cock in one gulp as his finger entered Krycek's ass.

Krycek groaned, sagging further against the wall of the elevator. Mulder was bringing his full, talented mouth to bear, alternately sucking, licking, and nibbling on his erection. He began to thrust instinctively, the finger in his ass brushing his prostate with every move. Krycek gave a strangled yelp, nearing the outskirts of orgasm. Mulder responded by sucking and fingering the younger man harder, remembering the not quite violence that always seemed to get Krycek as hot as the gentlest caress. Krycek came with a half stifled scream, Mulder eagerly swallowing his essence.

Knees turning wobbly, Krycek leaned against the back of the elevator for support. He was so caught up in the aftermath that he didn't hear the snick of a zipper being lowered, or notice that Mulder was no longer touching him. He did start paying attention when strong hands turned him around, pressed him to his knees, and a well lubricated cock, sheathed in latex, pressed in between his asscheeks. "Thank god you remembered to put condoms in you jacket this time, Alex," Mulder's voice breathed into his ear.

"Old habits, ooh, die hard," Krycek gasped out as Mulder began penetrating the tight ring of muscle. He didn't dare say why they were really there -that the Consortium, with their interest in genetic manipulation, had been engineering some very interesting and very ugly social diseases. He wouldn't have put it past Covarrubias (or Them using her as an oblivious carrier) to try to infect him as a means of assassination. But that train of thought was forgotten once Mulder began to set a demanding rhythm. Soon everything was forgotten but the slap of flesh against flesh, the balls slamming into balls, the push and pull of a cock against asshole, and the effort of trying to maintain his balance on knees and one hand. The artificial arm wasn't stable enough to bear part of his weight.

Mulder groaned as Krycek bent lower, trying to give him better access. His hand was a poor substitute for the tight furnace he found his cock embraced in. 'And speaking of hands,' he thought with a twinge of guilty sadness. Pushing in to the hilt, Mulder wrapped his arms Krycek and resettled, his legs beneath Krycek, and his lover impaling himself on Mulder's rigid prick. Then the passage encircling him contracted and Mulder threw back his head with a part yell, part moan. He allowed Alex to lift off of him and sank to the floor. Once he removed the condom, Mulder pulled the young man into his arms.

Krycek slid to one side of his lover and nestled his face into the other man's neck. Mulder glanced through half lidded eyes at his satisfied-for-the-moment member, and then in wide, surprised ones at Krycek newly full erection. "Can't keep a good man down," he quipped as he slid a hand along Krycek's thigh.

But Krycek stood up, looking at Mulder with a sincere sadness battling with arousal as he punched the ground floor button again. "We can't. If I stay here any longer, They will come after me. And they won't have any qualms about taking out any bystanders if it ensures my death."

Mulder opened his mouth to deny this, and then shut it, knowing that Krycek was right. But knowing and liking were two different things. He stood up and pulled his slacks back into place. He heard the rustle of cloth and looked up. Krycek had pulled up his jeans but was struggling one handed with his belt. Mulder stepped up behind him and kissed his neck. "Allow me," he whispered in Krycek's ear before nipping the lobe. Strong and infinitely gentle hands teased the buckle to close on the proper hole in the leather.

Krycek turned in Mulder's arms. He stared into Mulder's hazel eyes the way he had in the apartment a lifetime of minutes ago. Then he kissed Mulder again. But this time instead of pecking his lover's cheek, Krycek pressed his lips to Mulder's, freeing all the passion he felt for this man. He kissed Mulder, trying to communicate how sorry he was for their current situation, and how he wished things could be different between them. And in the depths of the soul some claimed he did not have, he knew Mulder understood, and felt the same way.

They broke apart before the elevator doors opened. Both men looked as normal as they both ever did, except for kiss swollen lips. Without a word, Krycek stepped out of the elevator and started to walk away. But before the doors slid shut, he turned back to Mulder and said something in Russian. Then the elevator closed, blocking each man from the sight of the other.

Mulder spent the elevator ride back up to his apartment in silence. Even if he didn't have a photographic memory, the words Krycek said, or at least what he thought Krycek said, would stay with him forever.

He hadn't told Scully, but he had been taking a Russian language course at the local community college. The phrase Krycek had uttered the second time was not quite the same as the first. He thought he knew what his ex-partner had said, but wasn't absolutely certain of the translation. When he got back to the apartment, the first think he did was pick up the Russian/English dictionary. "Just what I thought," he mumbled to himself with a touch of sadness when he found what he was looking for. Krycek had replaced the word 'friend' for another.

'Beloved.'


End file.
